


walking in a winter wonderland

by adspexi



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 21:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adspexi/pseuds/adspexi
Summary: It's winter in Schitt's Creek. David's wardrobe hasn't got the memo.





	walking in a winter wonderland

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> David has intense feelings about Patrick’s winter clothes (I’m thinking a nice practical parka and winter boots, that sort of thing). Can Patrick convince him that his outerwear is actually correct? 
> 
> Bonus points for smut, because 🤷♀️.

Patrick’s been in Schitt’s Creek for half a year now- the convenient half. He’s lived through David freaking out about the local excuse for a harvest festival, a Halloween where Roland decided it would be hilarious to surprise people dressed as Jason Voorhes and even funnier not to announce it beforehand, and a Thanksgiving on Ray’s couch eating Stouffers turkey and pointedly ignoring Ray’s “I’m-not-going-to-ask-because-I-deeply-respect-your-privacy-but-I-simply-_must_-know-the-details” face.

He’s already checked his tires and restocked the mini survival kit in his trunk (David keeps stress-eating the protein bars), so he’s not worried about winter, exactly. He’s not worried about the Roses, either, since they must have survived two winters here already. He’s just curious. Mrs Rose is allergic to flats, Mr Rose’s only concession to fall was switching from linen to wool, and Alexis is permanently dressed for Coachella. Frankly, he wouldn’t put odds on any of them lasting a week in January.

David… might. He’s got plenty of layers, although he tends to wear them in the middle of the summer, and he does _own _boots, even if they tend towards snakeskin and suede. Patrick isn’t sure whether Winter-Mode David will look like a surprisingly practical street-style model, or a street-style model with chilblains and ruined shoes.

So it’s with a mixture of excitement and trepidation that Patrick pulls up to the motel in the first big snowstorm of the year, having offered the “favor” of driving him in. The real goal, obviously, is a) making him show up on time for once and b) seeing exactly what David thinks is a fit look in which to brave the Ontario wilderness. He parks his car, sends David a text, and waits for the show.

David picks his way across the ice Mr Rose hasn’t salted yet, flings himself into the passenger seat, and freezes in horror. “The _fuck_ are you wearing,” he says.

“The fuck are _you _wearing?” says Patrick, who by now can hold a David fashion argument while driving.

“You drove here in a coat!”

“Yeah? It’s basic road safety. If the car breaks down I won’t freeze to death on the side of the road.”

“But—” David makes a weird sort of fluttery hand movement encompassing the outdoors, his baggy black wool number, and the perfectly decent tan puffer Patrick is wearing. “You drove here. In _that _coat.”

“It’s warm, David,” Patrick says, in his best innocent voice, “and Canada, you might have noticed, is cold.”

“That’s not the point! The _point _is I can’t have my business partner looking like _Paul Bunyan _while he restocks shelves! We are a lifestyle brand, and tacky Oilers beanies are not the Rose Apothecary lifestyle.”

Patrick smiles fake-patiently. “You see, the toque is for the _outside. _The _store _is _inside._”

“You say that like it’s supposed to cheer me up, but all I’m hearing is hat hair.”

“Hey, it’s better to be warm with hat hair than look great and freeze,” says Patrick.

David scoffs, like Patrick knew he would. “Debatable.”

Patrick wasn’t expecting that to be the end of it, and honestly, if David were doing fine in his avant-garde deconstructed vicuña raglans, he wouldn’t have said a word. He liked David’s style, he wouldn’t want to see him shuffling around in a regular parka and clunky boots for no reason.

But David was clearly freezing. His boots weren’t weatherproofed, that slouchy coat was completely open to the wind, and he kept throwing envious looks at Patrick’s mittens.

Patrick wasn’t about to let his— hookup? Boyfriend? Business associate?— _partner_ suffer, even if it was completely self-inflicted. He was going to _make _David admit that winter comfort was more important than any aesthetic, and one day he was going to borrow Patrick’s mittens and _like it. _

So he set out on a campaign of subterfuge.

“Oh man,” Patrick said, looking out the window at the mountain of snow that had been plowed right onto their sidewalk. “Somebody really needs to take care of that.”

“Mm,” said David, pointedly adjusting a face mask display.

“We’re not getting any foot traffic in this weather, so parking spots are really a must.”

“Sounds like a big job,” David said, moving the same pore strip package for the third time. “One for a big, strong, take-charge kind of guy.”

“Ah, you know, I would, but I really need to go over these returns,” Patrick said. “You’ll be fine, right? In your Prada gloves?”

“They’re perfectly warm! They have a cashmere lining!”

“Great, then it sounds like you can do it all on your own.”

“Man,” Patrick said, holding David’s hand in one glove, his hot chocolate in the other, and lazily skating backward around the rink, “Couples’ skating is such a great date. So romantic, right?”

David, teetering forward with his free hand waving in panicky circles, glared at him. “Cold, mostly.”

“Eh. You get all this great exercise, there’s warm drinks, it’s so _scenic._”

“We’re standing on an iced-over football field, I’ve seen better.”

Patrick grinned. “The great outdoors, though. That good clean air, right? It’s absolutely invigorating.”

_“How are you not frozen,” _David hissed.

“Long johns,” Patrick said breezily, letting go of David’s hand to do a casual spin. “What, did you not bring yours?”

Patrick had not, actually, destroyed his own car battery. He wasn’t about to sabotage a car for the sake of an argument, and he’d wanted to be on time today. He didn’t actually want David to freeze.

But he couldn’t deny that watching David shiver in that flimsy coat and his weird leather gloves was, on some primal boy-scout level, deeply vindicating.

“It’s not like we’re stranded,” Patrick said, passing David his third protein bar and digging around for his jumper cables. “We’ve got blankets, we’ve got food, and somebody’s gonna come along sooner or later.”

“Ugh,” David said.

“I mean, as long as you’ve got good warm socks, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“UGH,” David repeated, with a clenched jaw that looked like he was trying to hide chattering teeth.

“What, are you getting cold or something? Do you need to borrow my mittens?”

They were a pair his mom had knitted while she was still figuring out the difference between a knit and a purl. They were a scratchy acrylic-wool blend in bright greens and oranges. They were, frankly, hideous.

“They’re pretty cozy,” Patrick said with a straight face.

David visibly weighed the difference between covering his fingers in acrylic or having them freeze off. “Gimme,” he said, yanking off his fashion gloves.

“This is a big step for you, I’m impressed.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s any paps on the way to the apothecary.”


End file.
